


so raise your (oh, fuck)

by alesford



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: Comedy, Drunken Shenanigans, Earp Couch Con Fanfic Contest 2018, F/F, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-02
Updated: 2018-11-02
Packaged: 2019-08-14 11:56:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16492139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alesford/pseuds/alesford
Summary: It's Tuesday night craft night.Best. Craft night. Ever.





	so raise your (oh, fuck)

**Author's Note:**

> This story is my entry for the 'Comedy' category for the [**Earp Couch Con Fanfic Contest**](https://www.earpcouchcon.com/feed/fanfic-contest-announcement).

**so raise your (oh, fuck)**

 

-

 

They have to move craft night from Thursdays to Tuesdays after Nicole is officially promoted to sheriff and the only deputy available to work Thursday evenings has to be committed to the local penitentiary.

Being turned into a tree by an ancient, evil demon that is actually the original serpent of the Garden of Eden can really put a damper on your sanity.

Also, he started talking to potatoes in the Loblaw’s grocery store. So there’s that.

But the change in day also includes a change in location, and that means that Jeremy has become the permanent host of _Tuesday_ craft night. It also means that Waverly has to bring all three of the large, cumbersome, plastic storage containers filled with all the accoutrements and equipage and other doohickies that she’s collected since they started their art therapy gatherings.

“Babe, do you really need to relocate everything to Jeremy’s apartment?” Nicole asks. She makes a soft _‘oomph’_ sound as she re-adjusts her grip on container number two, which is deceivingly heavy for something filled with arts and crafts materials. “We’re only making Halloween masks tonight, right? Do we need all the scrapbooking stuff?”

“Who knows if the scrapbooking _stuff_ might come in handy when it comes to making Halloween masks, Nicole? What if we get to Jeremy’s and we start decorating and suddenly, one of us realizes that the most perfect thing _happens_ to be in one of the boxes that we didn’t bring because we didn’t think we needed all the _scrapbooking stuff._ ”

Nicole bites her bottom lip and nods, mirth in her eyes as she holds back a grin and a laugh at the very serious and very important meditation on craft night necessities.

“Of course,” she says plain and simple. “I’ll just get this in the Jeep and then I’ll be back for the third box.”

Waverly beams and bounces on the balls of her feet to kiss Nicole’s cheek. “You’re the best,” she says with a smile in her voice. “I’m just gonna grab my travel sewing kit and after that last container, we will be all set for Tuesday craft night!”

“Awesome!” Nicole exclaims with as much enthusiasm as she can muster, which isn’t much. But it is enough not to make Waverly stop her jog up the stairs.

The truth of the matter is this: Nicole dislikes craft night almost as much as Wynonna. It’s Waverly’s and Jeremy’s night — and oddly, Doc is really into it, too. More so now that he’s de-vampired — un-vampired? de-vamped? — even though the last craft night was before shit went sideways with Petra and the Vengabus and then Bulshar and Michelle… and, well, everything that made Purgatory actually seem like hell on earth.

  
(Really, a world without Waverly is most definitely not a world in which Nicole wants to live.)

  
But Wynonna, Nicole, and Nedley stormed the Garden and they got Waverly back — Doc, too, and life finally began to settle again. As much as it could with the rest of the seventy-seven now scattered to the wind — and maybe human, too? None of them are quite sure what hell is about to befall them next.

So when the return of craft night was announced, Nicole and Wynonna shared a collective groan. Wynonna’s was most definitely audible and Nicole — Nicole swallowed her complaints with a smile and a nod and, _“That’s_ awesome _, Waves.”_ Tonight, Nicole is banking on Wynonna smuggling in something far stronger than Moosehead lager.

It was much easier to sneak away for some liquid patience in her own house, especially under the guise of fetching more snacks.

Nicole realizes, of course, never to doubt an Earp’s readiness to bring a flask to arts and crafts night.

  
The shenanigans cannot be contained.

  
“What in tarnation? Who am I!” Wynonna drawls, holding a pipe cleaner mustache up to her face. “Where is my hat!” She appropriates Doc’s hat from his head — a move he is unable to prevent as he struggles with rubber cement, a felt cutout, and the desire not to strip away the skin of his fingertips with industrial strength glue that is certainly not meant for homely arts and crafts.

“I do not sound like that,” Doc mutters under his breath.

Wynonna swigs from her flask and continues marauding as Doc. She thanks the good lord for inventing the still.

Nicole thanks the universe for giving her the chance to play _never have I ever_ while attaching prismatic peacock feathers to colorful construction paper. Especially because everything seems so much funner —funnerer —more fun and funnier when under the influence.

Especially when everybody else is a little tipsy, too.

“Have no fear!” Jeremy proclaims with his hands on his hips, assuming his best Superman stance. “I am the greatest glue gunslinger in Purgatory.”

Wynonna snorts. Nicole is too drunk to contain her own laughter. And both of them earn a glare and the ire of Robin and Waverly combined.

Nicole shrinks in her seat on the couch beside Wynonna, looking properly chastised. She still doesn’t make herself small enough to evade Wynonna’s firm grip on her wrist or to stop herself from being near dragged into Jeremy’s tiny kitchen with, “BRB! Gonna teach Haught some manners!” shouted at drunk Wynonna volume.  


The night devolves only from there.

  
Doc ends up with hot glue gun burns on the sides of his face because he thinks the best way to be sure that his mask is appropriately shaped to his features is to attach his chosen decorations while it is pressed against his skin. Jeremy, trying to help Doc, manages to glue his fingers to Doc’s mask that looks more like a Shakespearean pompadour than a fearsome pirate.

And then Wynonna and Nicole? Waverly finds them on the kitchen floor, most definitely light years away from any sort of definition of sober. Not to mention covered in glitter and more than an entire package of multi-colored, felt pom-poms and feathers glued to Nicole’s shirt.

It’s a mess. A wonderful, beautiful and terrible mess. They’re all goddamn messes.

Robin tends to Jeremy and Doc. Waverly sees to her inebriated sister and very intoxicated girlfriend slash maybe but also maybe not fiancée.

“Hey!” Wynonna shouts just a little too loudly and with just a little too forceful of an elbow to Nicole’s side. In her other hand, she brandishes the miniature glue gun like it’s Peacemaker.

Nicole only just barely avoids a streak of hot, melty glue landing in her hair, matching Wynonna’s volume when she yells, “Stop shouting!”

Another elbow is jabbed into ribs.

Waverly folds her arms over her chest and stares at them disapprovingly.

“I think she's mad at us, Sheriff Haughtshit. Tell her that you like her so much and that she’s really, really, _Rayleigh_ pretty, and maybe she’ll stop _glaring_ at us.”

Nicole looks at Wynonna, grave and contemplative. “Do you think that will work?” she fails to whisper.

“I can assure you that it will not, Nicole really not hot right now Haught.”

Nicole pouts. Wynonna rolls her eyes. Nicole tries again, and this time her words are actually directed towards Waverly.

“I love you?”

Waverly raises an eyebrow. “Is that a question?”

Nicole shakes her head firmly. “I love you, Waverly Earp, and I’m gonna… gonna marry you some day.” Her head changes direction and she nods in the affirmative with conviction and certainty shining in her alcohol-glazed eyes.

There’s a sigh and then a softening of features and the glare turns into something more like a look of affection that makes Wynonna gag. “You’re still sleeping downstairs until every last bit of glitter is washed away. I don’t want it in our bed,” Waverly murmurs, pointing a finger at her maybe, probably fiancée.

Nicole’s head bobs again and her eyes are wide and bright. “But you’ll marry me?”

“Pretty sure I’m the one that asked you, Nicole Rayleigh Haught, but yes, I will marry you.”

Wynonna snorts. And then she pukes.  


Best. Craft night. Ever.

 

-

 

_so raise your glass if you are wrong_   
_in all the right ways, all my underdogs_   
_we will never be, never be anything but loud_   
_and nitty, gritty, dirty, little freaks_   
_\- 'raise your glass' by pink_

 


End file.
